“I love you too, Jeremy. Now go get Mommy a wash cloth before all this drips onto your bed.”
As I returned, I said, “The sheets need washing anyway, after the way you squirted all over them.”
She laughed. “Oh. I forgot about that.” After she wiped herself off, she stood and stripped my bed as she said, “Get a new set of sheets from the linen closet.”
“When are we going to actually make love?” I asked her.
“Soon,” she said. “Don’t rush it, Jeremy. I want it to be so perfect for us both.”
Mom had shopping to do, so I had her drop me off at Stephen’s house so I could pick up my Chevelle. We sat poolside and drank a couple of beers. I told him what Dad had gotten me for my birthday. “Lucky bastard. All I got was a friggin’ Maserati.” I wanted to tell him that the car wasn’t the lucky part, that having sex with Mom was, but I didn’t know how he’d react to it. Still, it was like a secret burning a hole in my head. I needed to tell someone. I just needed to decide on an approach.
“You know yesterday when we were talking about fucking our moms?”
He had half-committed to raising the bottle to his mouth, but he stopped mid-flight. He eyed me curiously. “Yeah. What of it?”
“It’s just that you waited to answer until we all did,” I reminded him. “Once we all said we’d do it, you finally admitted to the same. Why is that?”
There was about fifteen second’s silence, then he said, “I like you, Jeremy. Even though I’m five
years older than you, I think we have a stronger bond than either of us do with Mark and Johnny, and I think that has to do with the one thing we share that they don’t.”
“Our affluency?” I asked.
“Bingo,” he said. “Our parents are filthy rich, which means we don’t have to do jack shit unless we want to. You’re entering college next semester because it’s really the only viable option you have that will keep your folks off your back. Business administration, same as me. We’ll more than likely end up working for our fathers, but at least we’ll enter with a good starting salary and a corner office.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering all the while what any of this had to do with the question I posed. Luckily, Stephen got back on track.
“As eccentric as our fathers can be, I believe that, at times, our mothers can be more so. That being said, what you told us about yesterday? About the mother training her son in sex when he turned eighteen? I surmise this is what transpired between you and your mother. Am I right?”
I slowly nodded my head. “Yeah.”
“Don’t be embarrassed about it,” Stephen said. “I’ve been having sex with my mother for five years now and I think it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“No shit?” I asked, completely surprised over his declaration.
“Let me tell you how it all began,” he said, and though it was a long story, I remained captivated from start to finish. “I always thought my mother was a beautiful woman. Hell, you’ve seen her. You know.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Believe it or not, she has had zero plastic surgery,” Stephen told me. “I think that makes her even more beautiful. Anyway, as far back as I can remember, Mom was always that woman who had everything she could ever hope for and was still sad because she led an unfulfilling life. She was the type of woman who walked around all day with a drink in one hand while her other looked for any excuse to pop a Prozac.